Okey
dokey. Here's a heavier chapter. Tell me what you think. Thanks also
for all of the reviews. I really appreciate it. You guys rock.
This chapter is set after ep 1217 - Lost in America.
She woke up to an empty bed. Reaching over she felt cool sheets. It struck her how accustomed she had become to waking up to have him next to her, his body pressed against hers, his arms holding her. She had fallen back into the comfortable languidness so quickly, as if they had never broken up. Yawning, she stretched out and rubbed her eyes. Where was he? Upon hearing his voice below, she pulled a bathrobe around her naked body and traipsed through the apartment to find him. She found him, lounging on the couch, laughing merrily with the phone to his ear. He raised a hand to acknowledge her presence but otherwise continued on with his conversation.
"Who was that?" She asked after he finally hung up the phone. She climbed onto the sofa next to him, a mug of tea in her hand.
"John."
"Jo … Carter?" She asked, surprised.
"Hmmm hmm." He murmured and absently glanced at the newspaper.
"Oh." Was all that escaped her mouth.
"How is he?" She finally asked trying to sound uninterested.
"Okay, I think." He turned the newspaper over and began skimming the sports section.
"He's married now." He muttered, almost as an after though. Abby sat, silently, letting that knowledge soak in.
"He still in Africa?" She managed to squeak out.
"Yep." Luka replied casually, not noticing the change in her voice.
"He's in Darfur now though." He continued.
"Oh." She couldn't think of anything more coherent to respond with.
"Yeah." More focused now, he set down the newspaper and turned to look at her.
"Things are really bad over there." He spoke much more gravely.
"I know." She muttered off-handedly, not entirely paying attention.
"Not getting any better." He continued nervously.
"Right."
"He wants to bring over a few shipments of supplies." He offered, trying to lock Abby's gaze.
"Oh."
"And he needs someone to see them over. To make sure they get there okay." He explained, still trying to reign in her full attention.
"You know with all the corruption and everything." He explained.
"Luka."
"And I wouldn't stay long." He finished and gazed into her eyes. He finally had her attention.
"What?" She stammered. Blinking at him several times, she tried to wrap her head around what he had just said.
"Just a few weeks. Three. Four at the most." He offered, trying to lighten the load.
"No."
"He needs my help." He explained calmly. She simply stared at him.
"He trusts me." He continued, a little disheartened by her silent reaction and finally, she spoke.
"He can't send anyone else? Or hell, come and get them himself?" She asked, her anger fully apparent in her as of yet, still quiet voice.
"No. They're short-staffed." He responded matter-of-factly.
"Of course." She responded, sarcastically.
"Abby, this is important." He argued, trying to make her understand.
"And what am I? Chopped liver?" Her voice was getting louder. Angrily she stood up.
"Pardon?" He asked confused.
"Whatever Luka." She spat angrily, and spun around not bothering or caring to explain that particular language nuance.
"Abby!" He stood up, calling after her. Ignoring him, she huffed off.
"Abby, come on. Can't we talk about this?" He strode after her, quickly catching up and gently took a hold of her arm.
"Why?" She nearly yelled. And ripped her arm out of his grasp.
"You've already made up your mind." She ended icily and glared daggers. He was amazed at how much presence this tiny woman had.
"It's not like that." He muttered desperately.
"Not like what?" She gesticulated with her hands, nearly spilling the tea.
"Not like you just unilaterally made a decision that affects both of us?" She was furious. More than furious. It had been a long time, maybe even years since he'd seen her this way.
"No. You don't understand …" He tried to explain softly.
"What?" She interrupted furiously.
"What don't I understand Luka? Because what I understand is that you just spontaneously decided to leave, leave your job, your life, your … me to go, of all places, Africa! Where just a couple years ago you nearly died. And for what? For …. For, why? Because Carter wants you to?"
"The Congo."
"Wha …?"
"I nearly died in the Congo. I'm going to the Sudan." He corrected.
"Right." She rolled her eyes and spun around dramatically, then half turning around she called over her shoulder.
"Focus on your godamned semantics Luka. I'm going to work." Luka stood, dejected, noting that she wasn't on for another three hours.
First hour: Nine patients. Three discharges. One death. 7 stitches. Two emesis basins and an x-ray.
Second hour: Eleven patients. Two discharges. No deaths. Three emesis basins. An intubation and a head lac.
Third hour: Two GSWs. One death.
Fourth hour: Too much.
Fifth hour: A blur.
Sixth hour. Seventh hour. Eight hour. Ninth hour. Tenth hour ... exhaustion
Two hours to go. Just two. Hours. Left. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. 125 more minutes. That was all. She could do it. Paperwork. She could do paperwork. Her mind was fogging. Focus. She needed to focus.
"Abby?" Her eyes flung open. "You okay?" he asked.
"Hmmm hmm." She nodded, trying to sound convincing.
"Just a long shift." She smiled and tore herself away from the support of the wall. He continued to make chit-chat on the way to the lounge. She tried so hard to focus on his words but all she could hear was the peanut-esque wa, wa, wa's.
"So?" He asked as they reached the door to the lounge. She looked at him blankly. What had he just said?
"Do you want to …?" He trailed off, seeing her glazed eyes. "… grab a bite to eat?"
"Uh … when?" She asked distractedly. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open.
"When are you off?" Dubenko asked hopefully.
"In two hours." She responded. Two incredibly long hours.
"I can wait." He added. "If you want …" She ran a hand through her hair.
"Dub … Lucien, I'd love to really, but I'm beat." That was the truth. He looked crushed but she was too focused on staying coherent to notice.
"Oh, okay." He answered somewhat dejectedly. "Raincheck?"
"Absolutely." She responded.
"Abby we got a multiple GSW! Come on!" Pratt yelled. Abby's eyes widened and she slowly forced her body into action.
"His lung's collapsed." Abby muttered, as she prepared to intubate him. She couldn't do it. Her hands weren't unsteady. He had a clear path but for the life of her she couldn't get the tube down and he was about to go into cardiac arrest. When Pratt pushed her hand aside and did it himself, she just stood there, blankly, half-watching. Everything was so murky and dark. It was as if she was existing in slow motion. She blinked a few times forcefully to try and regain her focus. Swallow. That didn't work. Even the noisiness of the trauma room seemed distorted.
"Abby!" She heard her name. Where had it come from? Dazed, she looked around.
"Bag him!" Pratt yelled annoyed at having instructed her several times already. She fumbled, but did it. What was her problem?
"Chuny get Ray in here!" Pratt yelled frustrated. The nurse sped out the doors with a cautious glance towards Abby.
They arrived back just minutes later.
"Lockhart, please step out." Pratt ordered ruthlessly. Abby gaped. The nurses stared silently, in awe. He had no authority over her. Abby wasn't one to lay down without a fight either. She glared at him fiercely for a moment but then stepped back and pulled off the plastic material and sullenly, pulling off her gloves she left the trauma room without so much as a word of protest.
Paperwork and more paperwork. She should have been off by now but the GSW had delayed her as had a little boy with tic tacs up his nose. So soon. She would get to leave so soon. She just needed to finish up this paperwork. Suddenly, felt someone step beside her. Pratt. Damn. He looked angry.
"We need to talk." He wasn't messing around. Nodding, she set down her pen. She glanced up and saw Sam staring at them intently. Pratt led her to a small corner.
"Look, I don't know what's going on with you but what you just did in there could have cost that man his life." Why did she feel like she was being lectured by the principle?
"I know." She mumbled. She so did not have the energy for this right now. Pratt started to say something more but stopped. Abby didn't admit defeat. At least not right away. What was her deal?
"Okay, then." He added angrily. "Well, whatever baggage you have needs to be checked at the door." Abby simply stared at him and quasi-nodded at him in agreement.
"You could be a good doctor, Lockhart. You just need to focus." He continued. At this Abby finally, clued in.
"Excuse me?" She threatened more than asked. "I am a good doctor and I don't need you to tell me how to focus or how to do my job. You're not my attending or my superior in any way so can it, Pratt." She was more than peeved. He had no right. She glared daggers at him, brushed past his arm and walked away.
"I could report you for what happened in there." He spoke. It worked. She stopped dead in her tracks.
"Don't think I won't." He continued as she leveled her gaze at him once more. Clenching her jaw, she fought the urge to slap him.
"Fine." She spoke decidedly. "Do what you have to do." Godamn him. She turned on her heel and he took a few steps after her.
"You don't get a free pass just because you're sleeping with the boss." Once more. Abby stopped walking. The entire admit area had gone silent. She looked straightforward and she could see Sam, out of the corner of her eye, watching her. As were, Frank and Chuny. He had said it too loud. He hadn't meant it to be so audible. But it had been. And now there was no going back. Without turning back around, Abby took another step and continued back to the lounge.
"Tox screen back yet?" Abby asked, quickly surveying the OD in front of her. She was a young woman, not over the age of 30. She was now three hours overtime.
"Should be on its way." Sam, replied. On its way was not fast enough. They needed to know now, hell ten minutes ago what it was that she had ingested.
"Her daughter said she took a lot of pills."
"Okay, get me some charcoal." Abby ordered. This was insane. The woman was perspiring and seizing. Her heart rate, alarmingly high.
"She's crashing!"
"Paddles!"
"V-tach!" Motion flew by precariously as the woman teetered between life and death. Finally, they had a fairly steady rhythm.
"Tox screens back!" Abby grabbed the chart.
"Dear lord." She sighed. This woman really wanted to die.
"Diazepam, Alprazolam, Acetylcholine, Nortriptyline and her blood alcohol is .09." For a moment she paused, raking a hand through her hair, unsure. This was all too familiar.
"Alright first let's secure an airway and get 10 of atropine to block the acetylcholine … we need methylphenidate, no let's do a gastric lavage to counteract the diazepam and alprazolam … wait, crap! The diazepam is counteracting the nortriptyline …"
"Abby …" Haleh warned her. They didn't have time.
She raked her hand through her hair once more. Seconds ticked by. What could she do? It was as if this woman knew how all these drugs would interact together. Her heart pounded faster. The room seemed to buzz in her head, the colors blended together, swirling. Images flashed through her mind. She had to do this. It was a very delicate balance. They needed to try and nullify each thing without exacerbating her OD.
"Okay, phenytoin to block the nortriptyline and hold the gastric lavage and let's get an IV going!" She could do this.
"Ten more of epi!" She hollered as she continued to do compressions on the still, moribund woman lying in front of her.
"Abby …" Haleh warned her.
"I said more epi!" She couldn't do this. She couldn't lose this woman. She breathed heavily as she continued the compressions. Her arms ached from the exertion but she refused to give up. Sam and Haleh exchanged concerned looks.
"She's been down for nearly an hour." Sam murmured softly. No. There had to be a way. She had done everything. Everything! She couldn't just die.
"Dr. Lockhart!" Clemente had just entered the room. Abby reluctantly slowed the compressions until the connection was broken. She shivered, her gloved hands, covered in charcoal. Taking a step backwards, she felt the room spin around her.
"Abby?" Sam saw her sway in place and reached out and put her hand on Abby's arm, steadying her. She saw the look of concern on Sam's face and immediately felt the urge to vomit. Pushing aside she ripped off her gown and gloves and escaped into the hallway trying to catch her breathe. Quickly, she made her way to the restroom. As soon as she was in, she collapsed against the door, closing her eyes, taking deep breathes. The bathroom was empty. Still breathing raggedly she entered a stall. Her stomach clenched and she leaned over the bowl, vomiting.
Abby, exhausted after retching, exited her stall to wash her face, only to find Sam standing, seemingly waiting for her.
"You okay?" She asked concerned about her co-worker. Abby looked very pale and tired and Sam had overheard her throwing up. Something about the patient had affected her. Abby seemed surprised to see her there and raked a hand through her hair self-consciously. She nodded, her eyes cast downwards. She so did not want Sam to see her like this. Avoiding Sam's concerned gaze, she made her way to the sink.
"You did everything you could." Sam spoke reassuringly. Abby rinsed her mouth with water and caught Sam's eyes in the mirror. She looked genuinely concerned. It made Abby feel worse. She really didn't want her concern or sympathy. Staring at the water swirling down the drain she closed her eyes to clear her head and took a deep breathe.
"Abby …" Sam began. She really needed to clear the air. Abby turned around reluctantly and faced the pretty blonde.
"Look, I know it's kind of weird between us but if you ever need to talk … I'm here." Sam murmured candidly. Abby nodded, surprised and a little bit relieved.
"Thanks, but … uh, I'm okay. Really." She paused. It was obvious Sam wasn't buying it.
"Has social work come down for the little girl?" She asked Sam, trying to divert the conversation.
"Not yet."
"I'm gonna go check on her." Sam nodded and Abby headed for the door leaving Sam alone with her thoughts.
"Hey Shannon." Abby, spoke softly, approaching the little girl carefully. She couldn't have been older than six years old.
"Hi." She responded hesitantly, eyeing the new grown up rather suspiciously.
"My name's Abby." She said, smiling and taking a seat in front of the little girl on the floor.
"Are you a doctor?" She asked curiously, noticing her white coat.
"Yep." Abby nodded.
"Are you helping my mommy?"
"Hmm, mhhh." Abby responded, feeling guilty.
"Who do you have there?" Abby asked, indicating to the little baby doll that the child was carefully cradling.
"Baby."
"Does baby have a name?" She asked.
"No."
"How come?"
"Baby doesn't have a mommy or daddy to give her a name." Abby nearly choked on this revelation.
"Well, you seem to be very good with her." She offered.
"I have a real baby."
"Oh?"
"At home." She replied, looking up into the doctor's eyes. She seemed nice
"His name is Joshua. My baby brother. He cries a lot but I like him anyhow."
"Well, that's good." Abby continued.
"I change his diapers sometimes."
"Wow. That's a very grown-up thing to do." Abby knew this little girl was already much too grown up.
"Mommy gets sad and can't sometimes ... is she going to be okay?" The little girl asked her quizzically. Abby cringed. Her big gray eyes were so pure and earnest.
"Can I ask you about how your mommy got sick, Shannon?" She asked tenderly trying to side-step the question.
"She's wasn't feeling good and took too much medicine." The little girl responded matter-of-factly.
"That's exactly right." Abby replied, broken-hearted. This little one knew too much already.
"She's not supposed to take so much but I wasn't there to remind her." Her eyes welled up with tears.
"Shannon, sweetie. This isn't your fault." Abby tried to reassure her.
"Megan's mommy asked if I wanted to stay for dinner so I did and when I got home mommy was already asleep! She took too much medicine." The little girl sobbed, explaining.
" … and I tried to wake her up but she wouldn't!"
"Shhh. Shannon." Abby, took the little girl in her lap and held her. "You did nothing wrong. You were very brave to call the ambulance." She sniffled in Abby's embrace and then looked up into her eyes.
"Is she going to be okay?" Her big gray eyes looked into Abby's so earnestly, Abby thought she just might burst into tears herself.
"Shannon …" She took a deep breathe but didn't break her eye contact.
"The medicine your mommy took hurt her body. A lot. Sometimes when people take too much medicine it can make them more sick than before." The little girl nodded, looking at her anxiously.
"And sometimes, when their bodies get too sick they shut down." She could see the hurt in her little face. Suddenly the door opened and in stepped a social worker, an older woman with a face like Mrs. Clause but the little girl looked frightened and clung to Abby. The woman nodded to her that she could stay. Shannon shyly climbed into Abby's lap as the woman. Abby sat, semi-catatonic as the woman spoke with and explained to the little girl everything that was going on. She only half heard what the lady was saying. All she could think about was the small child clinging to her, her warm body pressed against her own and when she started sobbing Abby, without even realizing it pressed her head to her breast and caressed her hair softly, rocking her every so slightly. It felt like just a brief time but before she knew it, he leg was tingling indicating it had been cramped in that position too long. Still, she continued and slowly the little girls sobs slowed and she softly fell into a very troubled slumber. Abby finally extricated herself from the tiny warm body and gently laid her on the sofa, covering her lovingly with a blanket. Nodding at the social worker she sadly left the room.
"Hey." Neela, spoke quietly, as she approached Abby's shivering body on the roof of the hospital.
"Brought you this." She continued, throwing a blanket over her friend's shoulders ignoring Abby's lack of communication.
"And this." She offered Abby a large thermos filled with hot chocolate and sat down next to her.
"Why did I kick you out of my apartment again?" Abby asked jokingly.
"Because I was a disgusting, moping slob and you were being a good friend." Neela deadpanned. They both chuckled albeit humorlessly.
"I heard what happened." Neela spoke after a long cold moment of silence.
"What?" Abby asked.
"With Pratt." Neela expounded.
"Oh." Abby muttered disinterested.
"I take it that's not why you're upset?" Neela segue-wayed.
"I'm not upset." She lied.
"Right. You're just brooding ... intensely."
"Exactly." Abby stated with a terse smirk. They sat in frigid communal silence for a few more minutes.
"Luka's worried about you." Neela spoke once more. Even in the darkness, she could see Abby rolling her eyes. Again they fell into an uncomfortable silence.
"He ... he wants to go back to ... Africa." Abby finally spoke.
"Bloody hell." Neela murmured after a long pause.
"What is it with our men and their blimey hero complexes?" She added a moment later eliciting a cold chuckle from Abby.
"No kidding." She replied, knowing that of anyone, Neela understood. And they did understand. They understood each other and their communal pain. So that was enough. And they sat in silent camaraderie.
"Bollocks. I'm getting paged." Neela cursed as she felt her pager go off.
"You going to be okay?" She asked concerned for her friend.
"Yeah." Abby replied decisively. With a small pat to her head, Neela reluctantly made her way back into the building leaving Abby alone with her thoughts. Her buzzing, swarming thoughts that threatened to either make her head explode or escape to take on a life of their own. The truth was she was starting to turn numb. It's what happened to her when it all became too much. She'd slowly and mechanically shut herslf down and she'd be immue. Numb. Unable to feel the truly anguishing array of emotions that threatened to rip her to pieces if she didn't. And they had before and she couldn't let it happen again. Not now. Not ever. But especially not now. Because now she needed to be strong not only for herself, but for her baby as well. The thought of that symbionic dependence terrified her. She'd done it for years. Provided the strength and courage for both Eric and herself and she questioned whether she had the energy to do it again. Not that she had a choice. Gently she laid a hand on her abdomen where she could feel the gentle swell of her baby. It was tangible proof that she was needed. It provided relief as well as new anxiety. And she knew that she only had one choice. There was only one. Regardless of anyone else, when it came down to her, and it always did. There was only one option - survival. The only thing she'd ever been truly adept at. She'd survived it all. All of it. All of them who had left. Her mom, her dad, Eric. Richard, Carter, Jake. Some of them she'd pushed and some had left willingly but regardless, they'd all left. This was no different. But she'd done it. She's survived. And damnit if she wasn't going to survive this one too. After all, she was an expert.
I'm in dire need of reviews for this one folks. I need to know what you guys want to happen. What do you like and what don't you like as much? What would you like me to explore more? Stuff like that. Anyway, thanks for reading!
